10 - Two Times in a Row

Ryker's POV

The ice was cold beneath my blades.

I skated hard, fast, the puck tapping against my stick in a rhythm that should have been automatic. It wasn't. My mind was somewhere else, stuck on a loop I couldn't break.

The party. The circle. The bottle.

Her lips.

I'd had better kisses. That was a fact. I'd been kissing girls since I was fourteen, and most of them knew what they were doing. Nova didn't. She'd been completely lost, barely holding onto my jacket like she might fall over.

And yet.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. The way she'd frozen. The way her hands had gripped me tighter. The way she'd forgotten where they were.

She's an excellent actor, I thought. She hid that so well.

But then I'd kissed her, and the mask had slipped. I'd felt the inexperience. The fear. The moment she almost pulled away.

And then I'd held her neck and she'd stopped running.

"LENNOX!"

Coach's voice cut through the rink like a whip. I almost dropped the puck.

"Get your head in the game or I'm going to bench the f*ck out of you! I don't care if you're the best player we've got."

I snapped my focus back. The rink came into sharp relief. The other players, the cold air, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.

"Sorry, Coach!"

I skated harder, faster, forcing my body into the routine I'd built over years of practice. The motions were automatic. I'd done them a thousand times. The same drills, the same passes, the same shots.

Hockey was the only thing that kept me sane.

When my parents' marriage started crumbling, the ice was the one place I could think clearly. The noise of the crowd, the slap of the puck, the sting of cold air in my lungs. It drowned out everything else.

Then came LilyPad.

I didn't know how I'd found her, or how she'd found me. She'd messaged me after a game, some comment about a play I'd made that nobody else had noticed. She'd been the only one who saw what I'd done.

Our conversations had been the best part of my day. She was funny. Smart. She asked the right questions, not the shallow ones everyone else threw at me. For months, she'd been the one person I could talk to without performing.

Then she stopped responding.

I'd sent a hundred messages. Maybe more. All unread. She'd ghosted me without a word, and I'd never found out why.

The divorce finalized. My mother moved to a smaller house. My grandfather started pushing harder about law school, about giving up hockey, about being the man the family needed. And LilyPad's number just stayed dead.

I'd never told anyone about her. It was my thing, my secret, the one part of my life that belonged only to me.

Now I was back at Crestwood, sitting at Harper's table, playing the role everyone expected. Childhood friend. Hockey star. The guy who had it all figured out.

And Nova Reyes had walked in and started dismantling everything.

________

Practice ended at seven.

I showered and changed, pulling on my jacket as I headed for the parking lot. My phone buzzed. My mother.

"Ryker, honey. I need you to come home. Your grandfather is here and he's... you know how he gets."

I sighed. "I'm on my way."

I hung up and walked faster. The necklace was still around my neck, tucked under my shirt. The small silver hockey stick my father had given me years ago, back when we were still a family. Back when he still looked at my mother like she was the only person in the room.

I touched it through the fabric. It was still there. It was always there.

I was almost at the exit when I realized my bag was still in the locker room. I'd left it on the bench. My keys were in there. My wallet. Everything.

I turned around and went back inside.

The east wing was quiet.

I walked past the gym, past the science labs, past the row of lockers that lined the main corridor. My footsteps echoed off the tile floor. The security lights cast long shadows.

I found the locker room and grabbed my bag. I was about to leave when I heard something. A soft sound, like metal scraping against metal.

I stopped.

The sound came again. From the east wing. The main hallway.

I moved quietly, keeping to the shadows. I rounded the corner and stopped.

A figure stood at Harper's locker. Small. Dark hair. Hand moving in quick, deliberate strokes.

Red lipstick.

I couldn't see her face, but I knew her silhouette. The way she held her shoulders. The way she moved.

Nova.

I watched her write. The letters were bold and unmistakable, even in the dim light.

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER.

What was she doing? What was she really up to?

I stayed still, watching her work. She was focused, steady, like she'd planned this down to the last detail.

Then footsteps. Two men. Laughing about something.

Nova froze. Dropped the lipstick. It clattered against the floor.

She tried to run. I could see it in the way her body tensed, the way she looked both directions.

She was going to get caught.

I moved before I thought.

I grabbed her arm, yanked her sideways, and pulled her into the janitor's closet. The door swung shut behind us. I clamped my hand over her mouth and pressed her against my chest.

She went rigid. Then she stopped struggling.

We stood in the darkness, breathing hard. The footsteps passed. The voices faded.

My hand was still over her mouth. Her back was pressed against my chest. I could feel her heartbeat, fast and wild.

Then slowly, the atmosphere shifted.

I became aware of everything at once. The warmth of her body against mine. The ragged sound of her breathing. The way her hair brushed against my chin. The scent of something clean and faintly floral.

I could feel her heart pound. Or maybe that was mine.

I removed my hand from her mouth. Slowly. My fingers brushed against her collarbone, her neck, the curve of her shoulder. Then finally, I let them rest on her waist.

I couldn't see her face, but I could feel her. The tension in her body. The way her breath had changed.

We were this close. This close to something I didn't have a name for.

I slowly turned her around, leaned forward and whispered into her ear, my lips grazing the edge of her hair.

"You know," I said, low and quiet, "you have to improve your skills before I can grant you a second kiss."

She snapped out of the daze like she'd been burned. Her leg jerked back and her foot connected with my shin.

"In your dreams jerk!"

She pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway. I stayed in the doorway, watching her.

"What a way to thank me for saving your ass," I said.

She didn't turn around.

"That's two times in a row, I can't keep your secrets forever you know."

She kept walking.

I smiled in the darkness and watched her go.